Abel And Cain
by The Otherworlder
Summary: One evening, a traveler visits Saga, Kanon, Aioros and Aiolia and tells them the ancient story of Abel and Cain, only to learn that truth is always too intricate for one story...


Once upon a time, there lived four brothers in a kingdom by the sea.

They were told a simple story of good and evil, of sin and innocence, but the brothers were not satisfied.

One of the brothers said, "There is never only one source of evil, or one perpetrator to blame."

Another said, "There is never a clear distinction between good and evil; never a person that is truly innocent."

Another still said, "Good is good and evil is evil, though history remembers only the victor and invents rhetoric to make good the victor."

The youngest brother said nothing.

He completed the story in his silence.

* * *

Once upon a time, there lived four brothers in a kingdom by the sea. 

It matters very little when exactly that "once" was, nor where exactly rested that "kingdom by the sea". This story could have happened anywhere, anytime in that enormous weaving of human history. Perhaps the brothers lived in the present, only a short stroll from your own dainty garden down the street; perhaps they lived in the time of kings and knights, beside the waters littered with long boats with dragons roaring from their sterns; perhaps they lived in white marble cities beside wine-colored seas, amidst heroes crowned with laurel wreaths and blind poets strumming away their lyres; perhaps they never lived at all.

None of these matters now in our story, but perhaps the descriptions of the brothers are of some import. The brothers were not all related by birth. The oldest two were twins, and the youngest two are blood brothers separated by seven years, but the two pairs are not related at all. They did, however, grow up together since a very young age, and the bond among them was strong.

The brothers were famous in their own right; you might even have already heard of their epics. However if you have not, it does not matter either. Our story is a tale in its own right in every sense. Observance, not awareness, shall determine whether you pick up the subtle interplay here.

So let us begin our story.

In an inconspicuous evening, when the sun was about to set, a traveler knocked on the brothers' door. "Good strangers," The traveler said, "It is not without fortune that I chanced upon your place in the midst of my wandering, for I am hungry and thirsty, and in search of a bed to rest my weary legs. Will you offer me food and lodging for tonight? For return I shall tell you a story in songs, any story you desire."

The brothers did not hesitate and welcome the traveler in. They invited the traveler to sit with them by the fireplace and eat with them. When they had all eaten and drunk, the traveler said, "I thank you for your kindness; you are the most gracious hosts. I am curious, are you all brothers, if you do not mind my asking?"

The eldest of the brothers looked at the traveler bemusedly, then pointing to his twin he said, "It is apparent that we are twins, and perhaps it is not difficult to see the resemblance between the other two either. But why would think we are all brothers?"

"Aye," the traveler smiled, "By brothers I do not mean blood brothers only. You must all have some kind of bond no less than blood tie. Perhaps your blue hair does not quite match the other two's golden mane, but there is a common nobility to your features. Your eyes may vary in color, but certainly not in the virtues they carry."

The brothers exchanged amused glances, before the youngest said with an open grin, "You speak well, good guest."

The traveler answered with an unabashed smile, "How can I not? Ingratiating oneself to one's hosts is a necessary skill for wanderers like I. But I stray too far. Will you hear a story? What story would you like?"

"Perhaps a story about personal struggle," The eldest said.

"One of conflict," His twin said.

"A human story," The third brother said.

"A universal tale that applies everywhere," The youngest said.

"Not a short order," The traveler said thoughtfully, "Though I think I have just the right story. It is immensely old, though it is indeed universal and can still apply today, and it is of very real human struggle and conflict."

With that the traveler picked up his instrument and strummed a few cords. Then half chanting, half singing, he began.

"The ancient brothers, first brothers,

Born outside paradise's door,

Eager children of Holy Lord Father

Their names echo still in tomes of lore.

Cain the Elder tills the field

With rakes of iron and blood of toil.

To his vigor earth and water yield

Golden wheat and sweet fruit for spoil.

Abel the younger herds flocks of sheep

White like snow like his flawless face.

Love and care upon the herd did he heap,

The herd he led with the Lord's grace.

The fruit of their labor they held eagerly

Before the Lord as tokens of their love.

Ripened wheat and wine brewed sweetly,

And yearling lamb white like soaring doves.

The Lord looked smiling on their gifts,

And though Cain's valor he greatly admired,

It was Abel that he with winged words swift

In praises and in adoration mired.

Angry jealousy in Cain's heart grew,

A black presence, a relentless demon,

That of his noble, valiant soul slew,

That of his heart to sins did summon."

The traveler took a pause here, fingers strumming out rolling notes of the chorus. The traveler had stopped and added the chorus here because the sudden tension in the air was missed by no one. The eldest brother lowered his eyes; the perpetual shadow upon his smooth brow seemed to deepen. His twin glared, perhaps at the eldest brother, perhaps at the traveler, or perhaps at nothing. The third brother sat very still, the subtle frown was nigh imperceptible on his flawless face. The youngest crossed his arms.

The traveler did not let bemusement be known but continued on.

"The Gentle Lord kindly chided him,

Thinking him unhappy though of no ill will,

But Cain's rage overflowed his heart's rim,

Of innocent and righteous blood he would spill.

He took his brother away from ears and eyes

And smote the youth upon his fair head,

Abel! Flawless Abel lay dead 'neath the sky,

His blood soaked the earth fiery red.

Then in horror Cain looked on his hands,

Drenched in blood never to be clean.

In guilt and repentance he wandered the lands,

Through every grim winter and song-less spring.

In Holy Father's mercy Cain was forgiven,

Lands he conquered and children he had many.

Though no epithet to his memory given,

A sinner he remains in memory of progeny."

The traveler had stopped again. The story was not quite finished; there were a few strophes left. But the traveler was compelled to stop, for the tension was so thick in the air that it could be sliced with a knife. As the traveler hesitated, the second eldest of the brothers, one of the twins, suddenly said, "That is quite enough, good guest. Somehow I do not like the story you tell, for in my mind there is a version of that same story which is much closer to the truth."

"Like beauty, truth is in the eyes of the beholder," The traveler said, "But I am intrigued by your claim. I would love to hear your version of this ancient tale."

"Well, then," The younger twin looked out with hardened eyes and began, "Today most people know the names of Cain and Abel, but they all seem to forget that Adam and Even had a third son: Seth. Seth was the middle child. He was perhaps valiant and noble, yet he was ambitious. Being the middle child, and with two brothers so extraordinary as Cain and Abel, he was oft overlooked by his parents and even God himself. Seth resented his shadowy existence. He sought ever to turn his brothers to evil, for revenge, and for the satisfaction of his own twisted ambition and ego."

"Kanon!" The eldest brother suddenly cried, blue eyes shining with misery. "Stop this, Kanon…"

"No, you stop, Saga," The younger leaned forward and said, "You stop and listen to me. There is no greater disservice you can do me than not allowing me to tell this story."

"The fair Abel understood Seth's pain," The second brother continued, "And sorrow and pity was ever in his heart for his wayward brother. Still the goodness of Abel was not to be compromised. But Cain was another matter. Seth was always close to Cain and he knew well the pride and frailty of Cain's heart. He taunted Cain ever. 'Why does every one love Abel more if you are clearly greater in abilities?' He would say to Cain. 'Why does no one reward your valor but heap their love on Abel? Will you simply wait and never receive all that you deserve?

How Cain struggled mightily in his heart! He was good and he was righteous; he did not want to bow down to his own secret desires, only roused by Seth's poisonous words. In the end Cain even expelled Seth and forbade the serpent from ever showing his face again. But it was too late: the wrong was already completed. Seth's words were gnawing away Cain's heart, slowly but surely. On that fateful day when God praised Abel and chided Cain for his looks of displeasure, Cain's rage finally exploded.

Like Cain, Seth later regretted his doing. Yet while Cain wandered the Earth, bearing the mark and trying to right his wrongs with toil; Seth was welcomed back by his parents and God. They forgave him easily and even named him Abel's successor. The scriptures may have called Seth the righteous, but his absolution was never complete, for the blame was given to another in the first place."

When the story finished there was a brief pause of utter silence. Then the eldest brother said bitterly, "Of all things that are mine, I would begrudge you none, but you would make this your own."

The younger twin did not answer, only looked away.

"If you are not all weary of stories, then let me tell another." The third brother suddenly said. He had sat there in silence with head bowed all this while. But now he raised his chin and they all saw the silent sigh on his face. His green eyes seemed sorrowful yet still determined. No one raised any objection so the third brother began.

"In Sparta of old was born the beautiful Helen, whose face unwittingly sank a thousand ships. There too were born her glorious brothers: the Dioskouroi Kastor and Polydeuces. They are the sons of Zeus by the mortal woman Leda. The older brother, Polydeuces, was beautiful and wise, charismatic and valiant. Spartans called him godly, an Olympian in mortal disguise. Indeed, the gift of immortality was destined for Polydeuces; the power and glory were his alone. Kastor was good-natured and admired by many, but he was only mortal, whereas Polydeuces stood by the divine.

Yet despite Polydeuces's qualities, the king and queen of Sparta heaped all of their love on Kastor. The king even announced publicly many times that he shall leave all of Sparta to Kastor. The king preferred Kastor's unassuming approaches. While in awe of his older son, he was wary of Polydeuces's lofty vision and incessant pursuit of perfection. Polydeuces did not understand any of this. He thought that his parents turned a blind eye to his qualities and found Kastor superior. This thought tormented him, for he could not understand why his qualities were not duly rewarded or even recognized. Resentment slowly grew in him."

Kastor guessed what troubled his older brother, but he said nothing. Kastor was human, and all the human weaknesses were in his heart. Deep down, Kastor was still envious of his glorious brother…"

At that sentence there was a miniscule riot. The youngest burst out, "What are you talking about, brother?" The second brother barked with something resembling a snarl, "What is this, Aioros?" while the eldest said brokenly, "Not you too, Aioros!"

"Let me speak," The third brother said calmly, "Am I not the most entitled to speak Kastor's tale?"

Then he went on smoothly, "For who could remain unmoved by a brother endowed with such godly gifts? I shall say nothing, Kastor thought. Why would Polydeuces need any more praise, any more reassurance? He asked himself. Thus he allowed his brother to hoard that misunderstanding and resentment. Polydeuces was growing more frustrated by day. Time to time he would completely lose his temper, as if another soul was moving his corpse. Kastor in his selfishness still said nothing.

One day, Polydeuces and Kastor led the Spartan army to war against the hoards from Asia Minor. The battle was long and bloody, and as the battle wore on Polydeuces became so infuriated that he was suddenly consumed by wild passions. He forgot his position as the commander and began charging into the enemy the rank like mad. He cut down many enemies, though a few Spartan soldiers as well. He had no regard left for either his own life or the lives of others. Finally Kastor saw what his silence had bred. Sorrow and shame and anger alike filled Kastor, and the only thing he could think of doing was throwing himself before Polydeuces's path.

Kastor died in that battle. Though can anyone truly accuse Polydeuces? The hands of another had cut Kastor down, and many people, including Kastor himself, nourished the ill moods that led to his demise.

Polydeuces was filled with grief and remorse at Kastor's death. He loved his brother dearly. Polydeuces went to his divine father Zeus himself, begging for his brother's life. He even offered his immortality to his brother. In the end Zeus agreed to bring Kastor back, and Polydeuces paid a heavy price for it. He was to spend every other day in the cold world of death, so his brother may see the light of sun again in his stead."

The third brother's story was completed. Again, there was a deafening silence. The scene looked like an unmoving painting: the youngest brother leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and a petulant, childish look upon his handsome face; the younger twin sat with a perfectly straight back and a look of sheer torment; the eldest buried his face in his hands.

When the eldest brother raised his head once more, his face was ostensibly calm. "I think it is now my turn to tell the story." He said, "No doubt you are all weary of stories, so I shall make it brief and to the point."

"You must all remember Romulus and Remus," He began, "The brothers seemed so similar to any onlooker. They are both powerful warriors, wise scholars, irrefutable speakers and born leaders of men. Yet there was an essential difference dividing the brothers. Remus was not without shortcomings, but he was humble and faithful, with neither guile nor ambition. Romulus, on the other hand, lived for his own glory. In the beginning Romulus did not begrudge the love and admiration Remus received, but when it seemed that many loved Remus more and would make Remus a leader and namesake of the new city, his jealousy and rage became irrepressible.

Romulus framed Remus for a murder that he himself had committed. All the love people gave to Remus were turned to anger, and Remus died without a single a soul to mourn him. With good fortune history discovered and remembered the vaguest form of truth: that Romulus murdered his own brother for a city. Yet, history did not seem to care.

Romulus lived and lived well. His name became the name of the most illustrious city in human history. Perhaps he did great things; perhaps he created a new world; maybe he ushered in a new age of prosperity. Perhaps. For that 'perhaps', history deemed it frivolous that Romulus murdered his own brother. There would always be excuses for his faults, others to blame for his crimes. Ah, Remus!"

The eldest brother buried his face in his hands once more. "Who remembers Remus now?" He said in a choked voice, "Fair, noble Remus, who shall ever give him justice? Even Remus himself desires no justice, for he loves his brother, and he cannot refute the greatness of Rome!"

What started as an evening of casual delight was now gone with the winds; the air was saturated with pensive misery. Only the traveler still looked unfazed, smiling unabashedly at the third brother and asking, "Ah, I am very curious. You are the one who defended Cain most vigorously, going so far as to claim that the victim is not wholly innocent himself. Just wondering, are you Cain?"

The third brother did not answer, but there was a horrified "No!" coming from the other three all at once. The traveler smiled again, nodding as if extremely satisfied. "Indeed, I did not truly think that, but I wanted to make sure." The traveler said, before turning to the youngest brother and asking, "You have not told a story yet. Have you no story to tell tonight?"

"No, none at all." The youngest said in a low voice, "What can I say?"

"If you will not tell a story, I suppose I will just have to ask," The traveler said, "Tell me then, who are you?"

The youngest glanced at his three brothers, before saying with a humorless laugh, "I am Simon Peter, who thrice denied the Lord."

"I see, I see," The traveler said with glee, "Now the picture is indeed complete: you are those who are blind to Seth's presence, blind to Polydeuces's resentment, and blind to history's injustice. Yes, you are the watcher as well as the maker. Though I still wonder: who is it that you denied? Seth, Polydeuces, or Remus?" The traveler paused just a second, and then said, "Aye, perhaps, you denied all of them."

"Enough, enough!" The youngest wailed in anguish.

"It is strange how all of these came from a simple, old story," The traveler said, picking up his instrument again, "The old stories, they never end, do they?"


End file.
